


Game Night

by CyanideRadiance



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, F/M, Gamer AU - Freeform, I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY FOR MYSELF, I don't want to study, Rayllum, Smut, Sort Of, We all know what this is about, a cautionary tale about checking your microphones, how did I not tag their ship name earlier?, i am a failure of an author, it's just shameless smut, microphone shenanigans, plot? she doesn't go here, rayla is always starting trouble, so i wrote smut instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22749556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanideRadiance/pseuds/CyanideRadiance
Summary: And on principle, she knew it was wrong. But how could something that felt so good, so right, be bad?Rayla was going to make sure Callum never again left his microphone on by accident. His carelessness had wreaked all sorts of chaos in her mind, and she was eager to return the favor.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 140





	Game Night

**Author's Note:**

> So. We meet again.  
> I am desperately avoiding everything I'm supposed to be doing. Studying, finishing other ffs, eating properly, ect. Thus spawned this fic.  
> I have been victim to improper microphone etiquette. So I guess thanks to my clueless friends for sort of inspiring my story?  
> Let this be a cautionary tale to all (and particularly Discord VC users).  
> Hope you enjoy!

“So…. My place or your place?” Callum asked Rayla as they exited the dragon rehabilitation building they volunteered at.

She glanced at his profile, angered by the inevitable blush that dusted across her cheeks at the double entendre. Not that he’d actually meant it like _that_.

She and Callum had been something of enemies when his old partner, Claudia, had been switched to a different facility. Now, Rayla was the one in charge of taking care of the recovering dragons with him.

She rolled her eyes, remembering how rocky their relationship had been. Two humans should’ve never overseen dragon recovery in the first place. It was like leaving two tigers to take care of a mouse.

Impossible.

It wasn’t until she and Callum realized they were both painfully addicted to video games that their friendship began to form. It was strange at first. Connecting over comms, meeting one another’s online circles, learning their playing styles. Soon enough, they got into the groove of things.

Awkward gaming sessions became drunken Saturday nights where deaths were a shot and kills were a sip. Silence while working with the dragons became echoing laughter.

It had been fantastic.

Until one night, Callum forgot to disconnect his microphone from the voice channel. He’d bid her a goodnight, but she’d decided to stay up for one last game.

Strange sounds filled her ears.

Breathing turning into soft grunts.

She paid it no mind, thinking perhaps he was stretching. But when a loud groan broke her concentration and cost her the game, she pushed away from her desk, hand slapped over her mouth.

It took her far too long to realize what was happening.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, captivated by the story he wordlessly crafted. She knew it was wrong to listen in on such a private moment, meant to be between him and his walls. But there was a wicked thrill, zings of heat settling low in her gut.

She had pushed aside the budding feelings within her for some time, knowing it would make working with him difficult. But sometimes he would get this fond look over his face, eyes softening as he watched her caring for the dragons or educating visitors. She caught him ever so often, heart clenching at the unspoken words that hung between them.

It was easy to turn away, pretend nothing had happened.

But here, faced with his blatant carnal drive, she couldn’t deny the attraction between them. He had turned her on as easily as pressing a play button for a song by his intonations alone.

She was in trouble.

One of her hands hovered over the apex of her thigh, feeling the excessive warmth being emitted. She knew she was wet. She had amazing headphones and he had an equally amazing microphone, making sounds painfully clear.

Dare she do it? She felt like a starving animal. Rabid and ready to snap. Perhaps having spotted its first meal but only to realize it was poison.

Dark, delicious, consuming.

Deadly.

 _“Oh, fuck_ ,” he whispered, but she caught it, the little tremble in his voice.

Just like that, her strength faded, calloused fingers pressing against eager flesh. It was an offence to feel so wired up on just someone’s voice, yet here she was.

And on principle, she knew it was wrong. But how could something that felt so good, so _right,_ be bad?

She couldn’t help her own moan as it burst forth, but she’d had enough sense to mute herself. She yanked off her headset, not wanting to feel like she’d committed a crime if she continued to listen to him satisfy himself as she did the same.

“Ray,” Callum said in singsong. “Where did you go?”

She snapped back to the present, jerking away from his face that had become too close to her own. “Sorry, sorry. Just thinking.” She swallowed thickly, subtly pressing her thighs together.

 _Stop it!_ she warned herself sternly.

“Well, think later,” he told her, straightening. “We’re doing a raid tonight, so don’t forget to mentally prepare yourself. Did you want to catch dinner before we started?”

She nodded, rummaging around her bag for her car keys. “Sure. Actual dinner or going out to eat dinner?”

He barked a laugh. “It’s pizza night. Still into Hawaiian pizza?”

She smirked, noting the horror in his eyes. “Of course!” she told him cheerfully.

“Heathen.” He shook his head in disbelief. They’d arrived at her car, standing awkwardly for a few moments.

She opened her mouth to speak, to extend their time together, but he knocked on the hood of her car a few times. “See you tonight then,” he said, smile growing.

“Tonight,” she confirmed, trying to squash the sudden butterflies she was feeling. It’s not like it was a date or anything. They’d been getting together for game nights at each other’s places forever now. But her mind was straying, led on by the illicit noises he had made a few weeks ago.

She couldn’t help noticing how nice of a butt he had. _What a mess_ , she groaned, slamming her palm against her forehead as she watched him walk away.

Game night went beautifully, as always. Callum had two computers in the same room so that they played next to one another. They used his mic between the two of them but utilized separate headphones. Nothing was worse than echoing during games.

The raid was completed in a few hours. It wasn’t long before their group had logged off. Rayla and Callum were left to their own devices.

“Let’s finish a few more games and then call it a night?” she said, munching on some of her Hawaiian pizza.

He nodded, focused on transferring things from his inventory. “Sure, sure.”

She reached over him to grab a chip, accidentally brushing against his lap. His breath hitched and she immediately snatched her hand back. “Oh god,” she said, glancing away as she pulled her hair behind her ear. “I am _so_ sorry. I didn’t—”

“Nope, you’re good. Accidents happen,” he said, voice strained.

A very awful idea was beginning to take shape in her mind as he shifted to try and hide his growing length.

“Just… excuse me,” he continued with a high-pitched laugh. “I… Can’t control…” he trailed off, clearly as pained as she was by the incident.

 _Don’t do it,_ she told herself. But imaging his grunts had quickly washed away her resolve.

“I… I’m going to the restroom,” she told him hurriedly, rushing away. She shut the door, and placed her headphones against the sink, checking to make sure the _mic_ button was green and not red.

She swallowed thickly.

It was on.

She pushed her bra to the side, shimmying out of her pants and underwear quickly. She could hear the distant taps of his keyboard. He hadn’t left, just as she’d intended.

Slowly, she ran her hands along her breasts, scratching at her nipples through her clothes. The beginnings of lazy pleasure moved towards her legs, and she began to recall the noises Callum had made all those nights ago.

She pinched at the bullets that had formed on her chest, letting loose a soft sigh.

She plopped onto the floor, back against the wall as her legs opened up. Her hand crawled across her body, light and soon to be indulgent. Index finger running along the length of herself, back and forth. When she noticed a bit of discharge, she knew she was ready.

A finger coaxed its way between her folds as another rubbed back and forth across a burning bundle of nerves. Startling heat swept across her frame, the bite from the cool tile a welcome contrast. She reached over and put the headphones around her neck as her breathing picked up pace.

The keys outside stopped clacking.

Her whimpers slowly became muted moans as her hands made quick work within herself, curling upwards to hurry along her release. She felt herself begin to throb as the tightness in her chest began to mount.

Her heart thrummed in time with the rhythm her fingers had fallen into, devolving rapidly as her hips began to jerk against her wrist.

She whined, back arching as her toes sought purchase against the ground. Her head thrashed back and forth as she sunk down, body overtaken by waves of hedonistic gratification.

She knew he was listening. Had heard her fall apart, the beginnings of his name slipping through her lips in devious provocation.

He had made her a ball of strange emotions, and now he would be left to deal with the mess he had initially created.

She collapsed against the door, panting. “This is your fault,” she hissed into the headset, knowing he was on the other side, still as a trapped animal.

She heard his chair scrape back. Thundering footsteps arrived at the bathroom door.

 _“I’m sorry?_ How is any of this my fault!” he called through the wood, affronted.

She pulled up her panties and readjusted her bra before opening the door. He was red-faced, chest moving almost as quickly as hers had been. And he clearly hadn’t calmed down since she’d left.

“W-Why don’t you have pants on?” His voice got small towards the end. Darkened viridian swept across her frame frantically as he shifted to adjust himself.

“You left your microphone on a few weeks ago when you jerked off,” she deadpanned. “I literally can’t get the sound of you out of my head.”

“And you had been making explicit noises all night trying to get a rise out of me,” he snapped, rubbing his neck. “So technically this is _your_ fault.”

She was stunned for a moment, trying to think back to what had happened.

 _Oh_.

She _had_ been teasing him. Relentlessly. He had made some sort of passing comment about having not been with anyone for a few years. And she kept poking at him, groaning and moaning and saying some not very appropriate things. His voice had remained steady the whole time until he’d supposedly logged off.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him, determined. She was done playing games, tiptoeing around herself and him. The worst thing that could happen was rejection. And at this point, there was nothing more embarrassing than her hazardous idea that had come to fruition next to his bathtub. “Look, Cal. I like you. And I want you. I literally have not been able to stop thinking about you the moment I stopped listening.”

He leaned against the doorframe, biting his lip. “I like you, too, Ray. You’re so beautiful and kind and brave. I see it every day we spend together, and you always take my breath away. I didn’t know how to take your presence in. It’s why I was so standoffish when we first met. I was just… Captivated, I guess. Your heart is so precious to me, and I didn’t want—Shit. I’m… I’m sorry for not being honest with you sooner.”

She stared at him, dumbstruck by his confession.

His smile was absolutely wicked, promising dark sonatas and moody etudes in the shadowed corners of his home. “ _Heathen_ ,” he teased.

She threw her arms around his neck. Not expecting the sudden weight shift, he stumbled back into the wall. He opened his mouth to continue, but she kissed him deeply, taking advantage to sneak her tongue against his.

She rubbed her body against him, wrapping a leg around his hip to feel him against her. Where they connected, she felt little dangerous sparks. There was no stopping her now.

“We’re not making it to the bedroom,” she warned him. “You need to tell me right now if you don’t want this. Because I’m not—I _can’t_ —” She struggled to articulate the impending tsunami within her, on the cusp of the point of no return.

“I want you,” he said earnestly, gripping her face. “I’ve _wanted_ you for so long.” The kiss he gave her was gentle and slow.

Lingering.

She pushed at his chest, and he moved back to take his shirt off. As soon as it was gone, he was on her again. Mouth opened in increments, taking in more and more of her until her lips weren’t enough. His head trailed down her neck, moist and simmering.

She ran her hands across his chest, raking her nails across his continuously shifting tension. There was so much power he had hidden. And she wanted to be a witness to his body, testify how he could be so sweet and still take on the world when the need arose.

She traced the dip of his clavicle, following the bone down to the sloping muscles of his biceps and forearms. She interlocked their hands, pulling them up to kiss at his.

A free hand slipped under her shirt and coaxed the snaps of her bra apart. She quickly tugged it off, throwing it somewhere to her left. She unbuttoned his pants, her hand slipping beneath the elastic of his boxers to gently touch him.

He hissed against her sternum, biting at the skin gently.

She pushed his clothing down to his feet where he kicked them off. Again, she wrapped a hand around him, slowly beginning to pump against his length.

He choked slightly, kissing her breast through her shirt. A palm snaked down her body slowly, dancing back and forth between the tops of her thighs.

“Please touch me,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of his lips.

“Of course,” he murmured against her nipple.

His knuckle brushed up against her through her underwear, and he chuckled slightly on contact.

“You’re wet,” he told her, and she rolled her eyes, giving a particularly rough pull at him.

“And that was _without_ your help.”

“Hm,” he hummed, pressing against her pearl.

Her hips jerked forward at the sudden pressure, and her hand faltered against him. “Oh, geez,” she whispered, shaking her head.

He pulled her shirt, and she yanked off the rest of her clothes. She stood before him, torn between wanting to cover up and wanting to drape across him like a second skin.

“You are so lovely,” he whispered, calloused index tracing along scars she’d gotten from a rehabilitating dragon.

“I’m scared,” she told him, hating to be so painfully honest.

But she was already so compromised, so physically vulnerable. There was nothing she had left to hide after unveiling her body for him. Her insecurities threatened to overwhelm her, niggling at the back of her mind.

His lips kicked up in a small smile. “I’m scared, too. Don’t… Don’t get so caught up in the negatives about yourself,” he told her, rubbing back and forth along the skin between her waist and hips. “I just want you to enjoy yourself.”

She swallowed, placing a burning palm right above his heart. “And what about you? What do _you_ want out of this?”

He pushed a finger into her, and she inhaled deeply. He looked straight at her as he added another, beginning to move in and out. “ _You_ are what I get out of it.”

She drew a nail against his length delicately, and his movements stuttered a bit, wondering exactly what he meant.

“Please,” she mumbled against his neck.

Quickly, he picked her up and pinned her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him and helped position him.

He gently teased at her entrance, never moving in too far.

She dug her nails into his shoulders, hips wiggling to follow him. “ _Now, now_ ,” she whimpered, kissing him sloppily.

He gave a rapid shove, and she cried out. He stayed for a moment, trying to control his breathing. She rubbed against him as best she could without any leverage, but the hand against the back of her thigh tightened.

“Give me a second,” he heaved. “I just… I need a second.”

She squeezed at him. “You’ve gotten more than a second. _Move_ ,” she begged, brushing a thumb across the top of him, right above where they were connected.

He swallowed thickly and nodded, doing as she had asked. The pacing was slow at first as they tried to settle into rhythm. His grunts next to her ear were becoming increasingly broken, just as his movements were becoming jerkier and jerkier.

She could feel that tsunami from earlier, building to immeasurable heights as she desperately tried to halt the impending wave. She wanted to enjoy this, enjoy the fullness of him stretching her almost uncomfortably.

They were a primal symphony, a movement purposefully written with skipping notes and unlikely instruments. Voices and breaths mingled together, disjointed and unresolved chords building atop one another. Intertwining bodies were minor falls and major lifts, building chord progressions where notes melded to become one. Fingers skipped across slickened skin to create instruments of one another, plucking at strings and sliding along keys.

She was the conductor, and he was her masterpiece, carefully and deliberately crafted by the flicks of her hips and the strokes of her tongue along his blank music staffs.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Rayla!” he cried, tossing his head back.

There was dark pleasure playing within her. The vibrations of his chest against her, the teasing bites across whatever skin he could find access to. But it was intensified by the realization that _she_ had caused this frenzy.

She was driven wild, scampering along his body by the power that came with knowing she had given him the body’s greatest of pleasures. _His_ enjoyment was hers, and the reciprocation made her giddy. She wanted him where she was at, thoughts devolving into nonsensical tempos.

She used her voice like a conductor’s baton, telling him what to do. Back bowing to encourage. Her legs tightened, a vice that would ensure Callum could never escape.

 _Further, faster, louder, higher_.

She could practically see the him breaking apart before her in his fervency. Eyes going glassy as his motions devolved into a fierce staccato.

She groaned loudly, feeling the butterfly pulsating of her walls. “Go, go, go,” she encouraged, head falling back against the wall.

He was as captivating as a complex melody perfectly executed by a soloist, and she finally understood what he’d meant earlier by his enjoyment being her own.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Please, shit. Rayla, please. Look at me. I want to watch you just… dissolve.”

She was impressed he had managed to get those many words out coherently. Her mind was just filled with messy notes disguised as the oscillating timber of his voice.

“Tell me when you’re ready. I’m ready, I’m ready,” she babbled, fiercely trying to sustain the discordant cadence thrumming within. Piercing her.

Her body was poised, ready to release into a messy conclusion to whatever song they had created together. She just needed the cue from him to let go, hurdle over an invisible crest they were climbing.

“ _Now,”_ he groaned, falling out of sync with the metronome beat her body was trying to give him.

“Callum!” she cried out, desperate to keep up.

A new harmony fell into place as she felt like her body imploded. Lave flooded her veins and exited where she and he remained connected. His arms tightened around her, scalding chains that claimed her as his.

Even as he moved, she felt her body constrict around him, urging him to stay buried and begin a new piece.

Her gently lowered her legs, although they felt like gelatin. He helped keep her up, his body against hers supported almost entirely by the wall behind them.

They were covered in sweat, the saltiness of him leaping in her mouth. She couldn’t wait to press repeat, partake in the performance once more.

“That was…” he struggled to catch his breath, kissing her again and again.

She laughed and nodded, arms loosely around his neck. Her fingers played at the hair plastered against his neck idly. “I… I would have to agree,” she giggled, loving the way his hands pressed against her body at random intervals, as if to see what note she would release next.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, pulling her with him into the restroom.

“I am so satisfied right now it’s almost stupid,” she admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear. She was sweaty and sticky, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Except maybe another movement with Callum.

He turned the water on, coaxing her in with him. “Let’s get washed off and then go to bed,” he said, grinning smugly.

“What?” she said defensively, crossing her arms.

“You just look thoroughly fucked,” he said. “I like it.”

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbled, pushing him against the shower wall. “So do you.”

He turned the water on, rubbing her shoulders as the hot water engulfed them both. “You don’t have to sleep in the guest room anymore,” he laughed, licking her breast.

“You are damned right I don’t. I imagine there won’t be much sleeping going on in any room we’re in,” she commented, laughing as he nuzzled her neck.

“You know, I’ve always looked forward to game nights with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “We have weekly raids to do, and the newest expansion comes out next week. Game nights aren’t ending. They’re just…” she tapped her chin, searching for the right words. “They’re just getting longer.”

“Mm,” he nodded sagely. “I think I’m okay with that.”

She pulled him down for another kiss, but a thought struck her immobile. She moved back in horror, gripping Callum’s face. She had left the microphone connected to her headset on.

“Tell me you ended the call. Everyone was going to get back on after they got their takeout!” she said in a panic.

All color and satisfaction across his face leaked away as he peeked through the shower curtain. “You left the mic on,” he realized slowly. “While in the voice chat where anyone can join.”

“Yeah, I know! I… I thought you’d hang us up from the call when you realized what was happening." She slapped a hand against her forehead, unable to quell the embarrassment threatening to drown her "They probably heard us."

“Well, I was busy thinking about other things,” he winced, splaying his fingers across her abdomen. “Things involving a pineapple-pizza-loving heathen.”

She scrambled out of the shower, ignoring the water puddles she was making. Sure enough, their friends had all reentered the call. Someone had been gracious enough to move her and Callum into a locked room, but the damage had been done.

She hurried back, finding comfort in the steam of the shower. “There’s a reason you don’t leave microphones on!” she chastised him, although it was both their faults. “Bad things happen when you don’t leave calls or mute yourself properly!”

His laugh was disbelieving as his hands wormed their way back to the space between her legs. “I don’t know about _bad_ things happening…”

“ _Oh,_ ” she said, not realizing her body was ready to go once more.

Game night had just become a lot more exciting.

And Rayla and Callum had learned their lesson about leaving microphones unmuted.


End file.
